The day my husband left the country on a business trip with his assistant, I learned—by sheer accident—that his archenemy was plotting revenge overseas.

Without a second thought, I raced to the airport and stopped him from boarding the plane.

But his assistant went ahead, alone. And over there, she was killed brutally. Not a trace of her remains was ever found.

When my husband received the news, he fell apart. Wracked with guilt, eaten alive by remorse, he spiraled into a relentless, violent mania.

In the past three years, I'd been in and out of hospitals more times than I could count because of him.

And this time, he pushed me so far—I lost our child.

Then I overheard a conversation between him and his secretary.

"Sir, Casey is still alive. Why keep pretending you're sick? Aren't you afraid your wife will find out and leave you?"

"Leave me? What right does she have to be angry?" He laughed coldly. "If she hadn't stopped me from going abroad, Casey would've never been lured away by that bastard. Everything Linda's suffering now—she brought it on herself."

My mind went blank. I stared, eyes wide in disbelief.

In the office, Nick sat smiling gently at a photo in his hand. "Three years, and Casey is still just as lively as before. Looks like Jacob's been good to her. She must be happy now."

Nick's secretary, Bryan Connelly, adjusted his glasses, a faint smile on his face. "If Casey weren't happy, you wouldn't have stayed so calm these three years. Sir, are you really planning to fake this illness for the rest of your life? Madam's miscarriage this time… the damage was severe. The doctor said she may not be able to conceive again. If she ever finds out—"

With a sharp smack, Nick flung the photo aside. His eyes darkened. "Then make sure she never finds out."

Then came a sigh. He sounded almost helpless.

"When I lost Casey back then, I was out of my mind with rage. That's the only reason I lashed out at Linda. The first time she asked for a divorce, I panicked. Lied. Said I had mania. These past three years, watching her worry about me every day… I hated her. But I also hurt for her. Sometimes, I even wondered if I really was losing my mind.

"But now I've figured it out. Casey has found her happiness. It's time I let go, time to go back to what I had with Linda. As for children… someday, we'll have one."

As if struck by a thought, a gentle smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

But for me, it was like falling into an icy abyss. A coldness crept through my body, wrapping around me until I could hardly breathe.

Three years ago, I had overheard that Nick's sworn enemy, Jacob Miller, had hired a hitman to take him out overseas.

As soon as I found out, I contacted Nick and rushed to the airport to stop him.

That business trip was crucial. He'd been torn and hesitant until Casey volunteered to go in his place.

Not long after, we got the news: she had been kidnapped by terrorists, her body dismembered.

Nick was devastated. He fell into despair, even developed manic episodes.

All this time, I thought it was guilt that consumed him.

But now I knew. All his grief, all his rage, all his madness—none of it was for guilt. It was because the woman he loved had ended up with another man.

I stumbled out of the building in a daze, scenes from countless hospital visits flashing through my mind.

When Nick's episodes hit, he lost all reason. There were moments so severe he seemed ready to end it all.

To protect him from hurting himself, I had become his outlet. His target.

There were times I thought I might die at his hands.

Back then, I told myself it was just the illness. That he didn't mean it.

But now I realized—maybe he really did want me dead.

The sound of my phone ringing jolted me back. I answered on reflex.

The moment I lifted the phone to my ear, Nick's gentle voice came through, "Honey, where did you go? Why aren't you in your ward?"

Three days ago, Nick had an episode. He kicked me in the stomach.

I was four months pregnant. The baby didn't make it.

Because of that one blow, my uterus was damaged. The doctor said I might never be able to conceive again.

That day, Nick knelt at my hospital bed for a long time, crying. He swore he'd control himself from now on, swore he'd never hurt me again.

But over the past three years, I'd heard that promise too many times. It stirred nothing in me anymore.

I thought about it for three days before finally deciding to persuade him to seek special treatment abroad.

And now, today, I ended up hearing the biggest lie of all.

"Honey? Why aren't you saying anything? Can't hear me?"

I wiped the wetness from my cheeks and replied as if nothing had happened. "I hear you. The ward felt stuffy. I just stepped out for a bit."

Nick let out a sigh of relief. His voice softened, coaxing, like he was talking to a child. "My fault. Work's been too hectic—I've been neglecting you. Linda, if the room's too stuffy, how about I get you discharged? Didn't you always say you wanted to travel? Let me take you."

His gentle tone pierced straight through me. My chest ached with every breath.

Nick and I were childhood sweethearts. He always protected me when we were kids. Whenever the adults teased him about finding a future wife, he'd lift his little face and declare without hesitation that I was the one.

We dated. We married. Everything went smoothly.

Our parents gave their blessings. Our friends looked on with envy.

But these past three years, he had taken back every ounce of love he ever gave me, leaving nothing but hatred and lies.

I took a slow breath, about to respond, when I heard the sudden edge of tension in his voice from the other end.

"Honey, something came up at the office. You go ahead and get discharged first. We'll talk when I get home."

He hung up in a rush.

I lowered my hand and stared at the park, at the children running and laughing in the sun. After a long moment, I made a call.

"Lucas, I want a divorce."

My brother, Lucas Bergman, went quiet for a few seconds. He didn't try to talk me out of it. He just said, "If you need help, just say the word. Don't carry it all on your own."

I let out a soft "Mm," and a small warmth flickered in my chest.

The moment we hung up, Lucas sent me a lawyer.

I got in touch, explained my situation, and asked him to draft a divorce agreement. Then I headed to the hospital to start the discharge process.

But what I didn't expect… was to see someone who'd been "dead" for three years—Casey.

She was wearing a hospital gown, her face pale, her body weak and boneless as she leaned into Nick's arms.

She whispered something. Nick's face darkened. His eyes went cold.

My heart began to race wildly, like something had reached up from the depths and grabbed hold of my ankle, dragging me down.

That expression on Nick's face—it was the same one he wore when he lost control. The next second, his fists could come flying.

My heart leapt to my throat as I watched him slowly reach toward Casey.

But then, that hand gently wiped away the tear at the corner of her eye.

I exhaled, my body going slack as I leaned against the wall for support. A bitter laugh slipped from my lips.

Of course. It was Casey—the woman he had longed for, mourned, and obsessed over for three years. And I'd actually thought… I'd actually thought he might hurt her like he hurt me.

How stupid could I be?

I went home in a daze. The wedding photo on the wall was cracked and splintered into pieces. My chest tightened like something sharp had been driven into it.

I had picked that photo out of thousands. Nick had personally hung it there himself.

But as his episodes worsened, the frame had been replaced over and over.

This time, no one bothered to change it.

That night, I heard the door open at the entryway.

When Nick walked in, I was staring at the divorce agreement the lawyer had sent me.

Unlike all the other times, he didn't ignore me. For the first time in what felt like forever, he walked straight toward me.

I closed the browser calmly, as if it were nothing. The next second, I was pulled into a warm embrace.

His chin rested on my shoulder, lips curved into a faint smile.

"What were you looking at? You were so focused you didn't even notice I was home."

"Nothing," I said. "Just browsing."

Seeing my calm expression, Nick frowned, but said nothing.

I watched him pick up his pajamas and head toward the bathroom. After a long hesitation, I called out to him.

"Nick, why won't you go abroad for treatment? Do you really love me? Or… is there someone else in your heart? Have these past three years just been one long lie?"

For the past three years, I'd reshaped myself into something unrecognizable—someone soft, quiet, without sharp edges. I became a gentle imitation of a person, just to keep his emotions steady.

I never got angry in front of him. I didn't even allow myself the smallest flicker of unpleasant emotion.

Somewhere along the line, I'd forgotten I was still human, that I needed release, too.

Nick's face darkened. For a fleeting second, guilt flickered in his eyes.

He crouched in front of me and took my hand, his voice low and soothing. "I'm sorry, Linda. I thought I could control myself. I didn't expect it to happen again and again. But please, believe me—I do love you. I've never lied to you. Not once."

Looking into his eyes, so full of apparent sincerity, all I could feel was how absurd it was.

"Is that right?" I asked, my voice quiet. "Then do you still remember what you said the day you confessed to me?"

He fell silent.

I knew he remembered.

That day, when he told me he loved me, he also promised—he would never lie to me, never betray me. That he would cherish me, always.

And I had told him then, if he ever broke that promise, I would leave him without a backward glance.

I smiled faintly, gently brushing the corner of his eye with my fingers. "Nick, I hope you keep your word. I'll keep mine. If I ever find out you've lied to me or betrayed me, I'll leave. And you'll never find me again."

Panic swept across his face. He pulled me into a desperate embrace, as if trying to fuse me into his bones. His voice trembled against my ear. "No, Linda. We're not going to separate. Never—not in this lifetime."

"Do you remember?" he continued, voice unsteady. "That year in college—you went hiking with your friends. There was a sudden downpour. I was afraid something would happen to you, so I ran into the mountains in the rain to look for you. I slipped. Fell down the slope. Almost died.

"You were so scared. I spent a month in the hospital. You asked me if I regretted going after you. I told you I didn't. So believe me, Linda. I love you. I'd never betray you. Never lie to you. I'll get better. I'll control myself. I'll go through with the treatment. Please… don't give up on me."

My neck felt damp with tears, but my heart had already sunk to the bottom.

Nick was a masterful liar. Even now, he was still deceiving me.

But seeing the peace on my face, he assumed—like always—that I'd been placated. He gently kissed my forehead and stood up, heading into the bathroom.

Soon, the sound of running water echoed from behind the door.

At the same time, Nick's phone began to ring. Again and again.

I had never gone through his phone, which was probably why I never knew he'd been lying to me for three years.

But now, suddenly, I wanted to know. What else was he hiding?

The messages were from Casey. He'd saved her contact with a nickname: Bunny.

Bunny: [Nicky, thank you so much for today. I really don't know what I would've done without you. You're really going to let Linda raise the baby? What if she finds out the baby's mine? Would she treat him badly?]

Bunny: [Nicky, even if Jacob is a bastard, the child is innocent. I just want him to grow up in a healthy family. So if Linda won't accept him, I can find a new daddy for him.]

A child?

I had just lost my baby. And Nick—he was already eager to raise someone else's.

My fingers trembled. I couldn't understand it.

The man who once said he'd die for me—how could he now be so unbelievably cruel?